


In Stillness, Truth

by bjbookcase



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 05:03:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjbookcase/pseuds/bjbookcase
Summary: Sometimes it only takes something as simple as embracing the stillness of a winter’s day to confront us with a truth we’ve chosen not to see.





	In Stillness, Truth

Standing in the middle of a frozen field, Kathryn Janeway turned in a slow circle, letting the stillness–the deep, comforting stillness that comes in the early hours of a new day–surround her. It was the first day of a new year, and as she often did at times like this, she’d set off to find sometime and space to herself. Behind her, like a silent sentinel, sat her childhood home; its white exterior muted with distance, the gray hollows of its windows like sleeping eyes that echoed the continued slumber of those within. _Though not for long_ , Kathryn thought with a smile. Her mother, like her, was an early riser. She’d best get moving if she wanted to enjoy this moment of solitude before life and family vied for her attention once more.

Completing her circle, Kathryn looked ahead. There it was, standing on the banks of the frozen creek, its long, sweeping branches creating a pattern of dark lace against the winter sky. Her thinking tree. She hurried forward the steady puff of her breathing and the soft crunch of her boots on the frozen stubble the only sounds to disturb the quiet.

At the base of her tree, she stopped and looked up. Funny, her perch didn’t seem as high above the ground as she remembered it. The eyes of a travel weary captain obviously didn’t see things from the same perspectives as a child. _Let’s just hope they can still spot the route up to that perch._

She needn’t have worried. Circling the trunk, Kathryn grinned as those old, familiar hand and toe-holds revealed themselves. In moments her gloved fingers and the toes of her boots had pulled and pushed her up the tree.

“Not bad for an old lady,” she declared as she eased herself down onto one of the broad crotches where the main trunk divided into three large branches. Not that forty-five was old–even though it sometimes felt ancient compared to the rest of the crew she had shepherded all these years. Especially when things got dicey and they all started looking to her as if she was the only thing standing between them and the wrong sort of end to their journey. But it was nice to know she hadn’t lost all her childhood skills.

Nor the sense of renewal this place always brought her. Raising her face to the gray, overcast sky, Kathryn took a deep breath, savoring the smell, the taste, and even the feel of the winter air. The weather had been dry and cold for several days, but today there was a hint of moisture in the air. It would snow soon: the first snowfall of this new year. Soft, powdery flakes that would drift down and silently blanket the frozen countryside hiding the bare starkness of winter.

Kathryn lowered her gaze to study the countryside around her,imagining it covered in snow. If one didn’t know better, the land might appear forsaken, given over to the stillness of shrouded emptiness.

_But you do know better._

Yes, she did. She’d seen the same miracle every winter of her life until fate swept her into the Delta Quadrant. Beneath the stillness of winter’s snowy cloak, life continued as indomitably as ever, finding sustenance and strength in that protective layer and waiting for the day when it would push its head above the melting snow and usher in another sort of new year. A year of renewed hope. A year of new possibilities.

And suddenly, from out of the stillness around and within her came the realization there was nothing she needed fear in the start of this new year. Not even if it was the start of yet another year all too far from home.

_Home. . . ._

Wait! She was home . . . wasn’t she?

“Kathryn?”

Yes, that was her mother calling her in for breakfast. Her voice was just a bit rough from sleep yet.

“Kathryn. Hey, sleepyhead . . . Chakotay to Kathryn.”

“Chakotay?” Visions of a wintry, Indiana morning faded as her first officer’s face swam into focus just inches from her own. Warm fingers brushed her cheek as they tucked some wayward strands of hair behind her ear.

“I guess Seven’s report was more boring than usual,” he replied with a dimpled grin, his fingers still lingering on the shell of her ear. His look softened as he asked, “Where were you? You looked happy, but a million miles away.”

“Actually it was about thirty thousand light years.” His hand fell away as she sat up and rubbed her face with her hands. “But, yes, I was happy.” Her smile was bittersweet as she turned to him. “I was home . . .in Indiana. It was a few days after New Year’s, just as it is here, and I was sitting in my thinking tree . .. well, thinking.”

“Your thinking tree?” The dimples deepened.

Kathryn could feel the warmth spreading across her cheeks,but chose to ignore it. Everyone had childhood secrets. Even smug-looking first officers, she was willing to bet. But that was grist for another day.

“Just one of the many places I want to show you when we get home,” she told him, one hand coming to rest on his forearm.

“I’d like that,” Chakotay replied as he covered her hand with his own. Their eyes locked for a long beat until he spoke again. “So, are you going to tell me what you were thinking about?”

Pulling both her hand and her eyes away from his warmth, Kathryn shifted on the couch. With her legs tucked beneath her and her chin propped in the hand of the arm resting along the back of the couch, she stared out into space and considered how to explain her — well, epiphany seemed to be the best way to think of it — her epiphany to Chakotay. Beside her came the soft rustle of movement as he too shifted his position; then the room fell quiet as they both waited for her to begin. Glad for once that her viewport was facing space rather than the planet they were currently orbiting, Kathryn focused on a distant point of light and once again let the stillness wrap around her exactly as it had in her daydream. The words she needed soon came.

“Stillness. . . that’s how it began. I was basking in the stillness of a cold, Indiana winter morning.” She glanced at him and caught his amused look. “Well maybe not basking. . . .” She gave him a lop-sided smile and turned back to the viewport. Her sight, however, was focused inward now.

“There was just enough moisture in the air to know it was going to snow later. The first snow of the new year. And I couldn’t decide how I felt about that.” Kathryn sighed softly. “You see, winter has always seemed a bit like space to me. When you first look at a bleak and barren winterscape all you see is the emptiness. All you feel is the stillness. And that’s precisely how space seems at times. “

She fell silent then, lost in thought until warm fingers touched her chin, turning her head to look at him again. “So how does snow fit into this analogy?” he quietly asked.

“It’s like our journey,” she told him.

“Our journey?”

“Hmm-mmm.” She smiled at his puzzled frown. “Think about it, Chakotay. On the surface, snow might merely appear to help dispel the emptiness, the bleakness, but if you look deeper, you’ll see it also brings the promise of hope and renewal. It opens the earth — or in this case, us — to the possibilities ahead.”

Kathryn paused, studying his expression. She’d surprised him, but pleasantly so. Locking her eyes with his, she hurried to get the rest of her thoughts out before they slipped away as such thoughts are prone to do. “It reminds us that life continues even when things look bleakest. It reminds us that even winter comes to an end.”

For a long moment, they sat, staring into each other eyes. Finally, Chakotay nodded. “That’s an interesting comparison,” he said, but his gaze grew stern even as his fingers moved from her chin up to gently stroke her cheek. “However, you missed a very important corollary, Kathryn.”

“I did?”

“You did. Sustenance and strength. With snow comes the sustenance and strength needed for the times ahead. Two things I’d always wondered how anyone who claims to embrace life could be foolish enough to insist on doing without.”

Kathryn dipped her head, hiding the delight she knew was shining in her eyes. _So, he’d figured that part out on his own, had he?_ And gotten a nice little dig in at her stubbornness as well. But then she’d always known he was a clever man. Still, it was going to take more than a little persuasion to convince him she’d finally seen that particular truth for herself.

Then again, maybe she was going about this the wrong way. Maybe the time for words was past. Maybe it was time to apply what she’d learned.

Pushing herself up on her knees, Kathryn reached out to clasp her hands behind Chakotay’s neck. For a moment, she indulged herself, riffling her fingers through the soft, short hairs on the back of his neck. Then gently tugging him toward her, she leaned in and placed a warm, lingering kiss on his lips. When she finally drew back, she smiled at the startled look on his face.

“I may be a lot of things, Chakotay, but foolish is no longer one of them.”

“Is that a promise, Kathryn Janeway?” he asked when he finally found his voice.

“Does it snow in Indiana?”

And she sealed it with a kiss.

THE END


End file.
